


The Lost Art of Keeping a Secret

by orphan_account



Category: Muse (Band)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Character Death, Exorcisms, Gen, Possession, Short Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:20:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24351232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Matt had a secret. Letting his bandmates in on it wasn't as easy as he would've liked.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 7





	The Lost Art of Keeping a Secret

Everybody knows that you’re insane.

That was what a fresh faced Matt Bellamy told himself at one point, after realising his ‘unnatural tendencies’ weren’t just in his head or masked from the world. All those incidents - things like letting out blood-curdling screeches and yowls, crippling pain and eyes glowing electric blue - weren’t a figment of his wild imagination. That shit was _indeed_ real, if he liked it or not. The problem he faced was trying to keep his alter ego in its place. Whatever leash he had on the thing was wearing thin, and it was starting to show.

Even something as humble as his nails growing longer and sharper frightened him. What if he scratched one of his bandmates, or punctured his own skin out of anger? He was only glad that he hadn’t grown a tail, a pair of horns, or wings yet - then he’d seriously be in trouble. And it wouldn’t be the most comfortable conversation, either.

“Hey, what’s that thing behind your back?”

“Just my tail. Don’t mind me.”

“Cool.”

Or maybe the minor headaches he’d feel from his forehead were something he needed to worry about. Matt couldn’t play off screaming like a rabid creature as “I guess I felt the need” for much longer - as much as he hated lying to his friends, he had to say it. In the studio was the worst. Muse are in the middle of a jam sesh, and Bellamy lets out a ferocious, harsh screech, and oddly enough, it typically blends in with the sounds of their demos. Musical chameleon in more ways than one. At least the magazines think his cries are just his ‘incredible vocal abilities’...

Chris and Dom think otherwise. 

The other two musicians knew about how Matt was fascinated by the underworld and its occupants. Hell - no pun intended - they even joined him in some of his (apparently stupid) Ouija board sessions. Followed him to the local cemetery. Gave him some money for a spirit box. Helped him draw a summoning circle a few times - they never knew when it was too late; the devil was already surging through his veins, crimson turned into black. Sometimes he’d draw over his veins with a Sharpie to hide them. His ‘art’ wasn’t the most effective Get Out of Jail card, but he didn’t have a lot of options with this.

—

_Make sure no-one finds out  
Tell me all about it  
Don't keep it to yourself  
Because I have been through hell_

— 

“You were working on In Your World, right?” Dom asked, faking his sweetness. He’d watched for minutes as Matt sat hunched over at the table, scribbling on a crumpled sheet of notepad paper over and over again, sometimes taking a moment to mumble something to himself or yawn, repeating the cycle for what felt like hours. Occasionally he’d click his tongue in thought. Chris was elsewhere for the moment, so he couldn’t serve Dom as conversation fodder. 

Matt looked over at him. He gave him a slow, deliberate blink with his dull stare, and gazed back down at his handwriting. It was like hieroglyphs to Dom. Unreadable. “Mhm. This version’s a bit better than the last. Wanna hear some of it?”

Dom nodded. “Of course.” He noticed how Matt suddenly hid his hands in his lap.

“It’s not- It’s not too good, but...” Matt gulped like he was guilty. “Doesn’t matter- Just listen.” He took a deep, shaky breath, and read;

“I'm hurting you again  
Too lonely to pretend  
Like everything is new  
I promised you to blow it all away…

In your world  
No one is trying alone  
In your world  
No one is dying alone.”

“You sound so different in your lyrics,” Dom said. Something was off, but he couldn’t put a finger on it. Prodding at Matt was like pissing off a lion. You poke at it, taunt it with something, and then it roars at you (or bites your head off, but Matt probably wouldn’t do that). “Are you alr-“

“I’m _fine_ , Dom,” Matt snapped. “You don’t need to fucking check in every three minutes.”

Dom frowned, “What the hell has gotten into you?” Matt looked at him briefly, and Dom could’ve swore he saw a bright blue glint in his eyes. The guitarist suddenly slammed an open hand on the table and clenched it shut, slowly, his nails scraping against the wood with the most unpleasant screeching noise. Matt let out a groan of defeat once he couldn’t drag his nails anymore, and then Dom saw it. 

Scratch marks. Pointed, clawed nails. The silence wavered for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” Matt whimpered, his other hand tightly clenched in a fist. Blood trickled from his palm and onto the table. It pooled around his hand in a dark puddle, voided in colour, like a black hole. “I’m so sorry, _please_ , I didn’t mean it-“

Dom opened his mouth to say something, but Matt’s tiny, pained sobs made his words tangle in his throat. He took Matt’s bloodied fist and opened it. 

Deep, ugly looking gashes were where the claws punctured. His flesh was dark red, black blood smeared all over the palm and remaining on his nails. He didn’t know what to say. Dom instead brushed his thumb over the middle of his palm, and Matt responded by slowly wrapping his fingers around it. A moment of connection.

Matt looked at him with teary, reddish eyes and the slightest pout. “I... I don’t-“

“Please, Matt,” Dom said, “What’s happening to you?” He pursed his lips when he felt Matt squeeze his thumb.

“...I-I can’t tell you right now.”

“Do you want Chris to be here when you do?”

“That would be good.”

—

_Hey little monster, I got my eye on you  
Where are you goin’, where you runnin’ to?  
Hey little monster, you know it’s all okay_

—

Sun’s setting below the horizon, and Matt was back in his apartment, curled up on his bed in a sad ball. He now had bandages wrapped around one hand. Dom didn’t let him linger much longer in their studio after _that_ , so he scurried back to his cave and simmered in his own thoughts for a while. His CD player on the dresser coughed out The Bends at a low volume - that indecipherable whining was comforting for the time being, and his bed felt cozier than ever. Everything was a bit hazy.

The pain in his joints kicked in. Not horrible enough for him to writhe in his own skin and cry out, just enough to make him sigh in annoyance. Matt looked at his hand again. He already knew he was going to tear up; whatever scars his own nails left on his palm were there forever. Investing in nail clippers were probably a good idea.

Matt’s room slowly darkened as the minutes passed, but instead of letting the nothingness of sleep immediately take him, he grumbled when he realised how hungry he was. Dragging his bag of bones off of the bed was too much of a task for him to actually act upon it. 

The temptation to stay warm under the covers hit him at just the wrong time.

—

_Your soul can't be saved for all the sins you've ignored  
And the devil is well aware he is adored  
Never forget the excess of a man  
Because the grabbing hands always grab what they can_

—

Waking up, Matt’s first thought was to eat. His mind told him to eat something fleshy and bloody, like some meat. Maybe from a human. He shuddered and let the idea pass - questioning as to why he even wanted to _eat someone_ in the first place - slid himself off of the bed and went straight to the kitchen. Matt was as thin as a pencil; his metabolism gobbled up as much as it could handle with ease, like a paper shredder. It left him hungry for anything he could get his hands on almost constantly.

To replace his craving for someone’s leg or whatever, he made himself some cereal, but it barely touched him. Matt found that he could eat however much he wanted and not see a single change in his physique.

Matt trudged over to the phone when it began to ring. Once he picked up, he found it hard to say anything.

 _“Matt? Are you there?”_ It was Dom. 

“Yeah,” Matt said. “What is it?”

_“I was just checking to see if you’re doing alright after, um.. yesterday. I got really spooked, I hope you realise that.”_

“Sorry.”

_“No, please,”_ A staticky noise fell over the line, so Matt assumed he chuckled or something. _“Don’t apologise. How’s your hand?”_

“It’s fine, I think. Can still move it.”

_“Fuckin’ hell- Sorry. We’ll sort this out.”_

“Does Chris know what happened?”

_“I mean, I gave him a rundown, but I don’t know if he believed it…”_

“Oh.”

_“Sorry if I bothered you, Matt.”_

“I’m fine- uh, next time we have another studio session I suppose I can... try to tell you something.”

Matt heard another staticky noise. Sounded a bit like a sigh. _“We need to know at some point.”_

“I promise you wi-“

 _“I need to go now. Didn’t mean to cut the convo short, but…”_ He started to sound nervous.

“O-Okay,” Matt stammered, “Well, you have a good day then, Dom.”

_“Take care.”_

The line cut off, and Matt put the phone down. He wondered whether or not either of them would even believe _him_ if he said he’d been possessed.

That little pissed off ache in his forehead came back, like something behind his skin was pushing as hard as it could to break free. Maybe his wish jinxed his chances. 

_Crack._

_Crack._

He froze. 

Before Matt could stop it, the pain overwrote his senses, sending him falling to his knees. Aching morphed into torture; the skin blocking whatever was trying to bore itself out tore and split, blood spilling out to no end. His wails became throaty screams as a pair of horns forcefully emerged from his skull - Matt could just feel every tiny _crack_ in his entire being.

He screamed through clenched teeth as another disturbance made its way down his spine, clouding in his pelvis. 

At the _tailbone_ was where he felt it the most. 

“No, no-“ Matt cried, craning his neck to watch as a tail sprouted from the base of his spine, pointed like an arrow at the tip and as black as his blood. It sounded reminiscent of knuckles cracking as it loosened itself up, and then he was able to have full control over it. “Shit- _no-_ “

Three knocks sounded at the front door. 

Matt hissed and scrambled to his room like a scared cat. He turned to face his full-body mirror by the dresser, staring at his corrupted form in disgust and anger. His canines grew into fangs, like in one of those retro werewolf flicks. He didn’t even know what he was anymore, but his best guess was a deformed mess of monster and human. Or just a mess. Knocks pounded again, but Matt didn’t move. _No one could see him like this._

He heard a voice. “Matt?” This time it was Chris. “Is everything okay in there?”

Matt hissed again - in annoyance - and scurried to the door to answer. He pulled it open; he instantly took a few steps back and screeched, only because he realised his dark side was exposed to Chris. And the expression on his visitor’s face didn’t tell him anything good.

“What the fuck, Matt-“ Chris took a few more steps into the apartment and locked the door behind him, watching as a creature that was supposedly Matt stood before him. Then he saw the tail. The horns. And a whole lot of black, slathered all over Matt’s skin and the floor like a painting gone wrong. _“What the fuck happened to you?”_

Matt found it hard to speak, so his only response was a defeated whimper. His tail patted the floor.

“How... When? And why..?” Chris asked. “I... I’m scared, Matt. I don’t even know what you are.”

And neither did he. 

Matt fell to his knees in front of him, hands splayed on the floor, arching his back as the final transformation took place at his shoulder blades. A pair of demonic looking, tattered wings tore through the back of his shirt with ease, flapping impatiently, making Matt whine and succumb to the torment by laying on his stomach. Everything was hurting.

“It’s horrible, isn’t it?” Chris sat down beside him and gave him a pat on the head. “Can I stay here and look after you for a bit?” 

“Y...Yeah.” Matt sniffled. He was close to crying, but Chris’ reassuring head pats and raking of hair made him purr instead - something he didn’t even know he was capable of.

“Should I call Dom over?” 

Matt whimpered, “You can, but I’m scared.”

“Of what?” Chris pulled his hand away. 

“Scared of his impression of me. He’s going to think I’m a liar or something.”

“Why would he think that?”

“I kept telling him that I’m fine...” Matt took a deep breath, “The screams. My nails. Getting pissed off easily. He already knew something was off.” He sat up and rested his chin on his knees, making him look like a tiny ball. Matt said, “Why aren’t you afraid of me?”

Chris sighed. “You’re still human on the insi-“

 _“Look at what’s happened to me,”_ Matt barked suddenly, staring at him with blacked out eyes. His irises became mere white rings. “I’m corrupted inside and out, _this is not the time for cute shit, alright?”_ Chris remained unbothered. Whatever the fuck was pulling Matt’s strings had to be let out.

He put it bluntly; “Exorcism.”

Matt immediately hissed and backed away from Chris, _“I wouldn’t allow such a thing to disturb me!”_ His voice became a low rasp, deeper than what it usually was. _“I belong to this poor man now, he allowed me to inhabit his form! Leave me alone…”_ He spoke like nails on a chalkboard. Chris was internally kicking himself at the fact that he pissed off Matt - more so the demon itself, but he wanted to know if it was anything dangerous. _“Others like your kind are pathetic.”_

“Really now?” Chris laughed, “Might I ask, does the name of _Christ_ scare you?” His cheeky grin infuriated Matt even more, as if uttering the name alone wasn’t enough. 

_“You’re going to regret ever speaking such foul things!”_

“What are you gonna do? Bite my ankles?” 

Matt tackled Chris to the floor and held him down with a hand, using his other to stand himself up and kept the taller man on the floor with his foot. The pressure on Chris’ abdomen felt like hundreds of pounds sitting on him. Such strength was something Matt himself didn’t realise he had, but now seemed to be a better time than ever to abuse the power. _“Better than that.”_

Chris coughed, “So, what are you gonna do, lil’ Lucifer?” He smiled through the pain as Matt snarled at him in anger. “Go on. Show me your tricks, little guy.”

 _“You cunt,”_ Matt stepped off of him and lifted him up by the collar of his shirt, his claws slowly tearing the material. The reactions he kept getting weren’t anything like what he wanted to see. _“Quit fucking with me.”_

“Would you mind letting go of me?”

Matt growled and let him fall to the floor. _“Putrid thing…”_

“Speak for yourself,” Chris joked, standing up. His smirk quickly faded when he took a second to look at him - something about Matt’s intense, wide eyed stare made him freeze. “I think Dom should see you.”

 _“That bastard-_ Wait, no, I didn’t mean that,” Matt’s tone was normal again. “What the fuck am I saying-“ 

“Don’t fret it. I can tell when you’re being sincere,” Chris said. Then he noticed how Matt’s eyes reverted back to their usual colours. “I won’t tell him you said that. I’ll give him a call.”

Matt pouted and walked to the couch, laying curled up with his head on the armrest. He paid no attention to whatever Chris was going to say.

_“Hello?”_

“It’s Chris. I’m with Matt now, he’s... He’s not in the best shape.”

_“God damn it. I was already so worried about him, and now he’s worse-“_

“Dom, it’s not your fault. We’ll get him fixed up soon. You should come visit,” Chris turned to see Matt resting on the couch, wings wrapped around him like a bat. “Now, um, how do I word this...”

_“What is it?”_

“Could you make a trip to the hardware store or something for me?”

Dom paused. _“…Why?”_

Chris lowered his voice. “We’re getting him exorcised. I don’t care what you say, he _needs_ it.”

_“That little monster. So why do I need to go to the hardware store?”_

“Well, we need to restrain him so he doesn’t hurt us or whatever. Find rope or chains or something, hell, even wire. Anything like that.”

_“Shouldn’t a priest be doing this, or someone qualif- Y’know what, I’m not even going to question it. I’ll be about twenty minutes.”_

“Oh, you’re a godsend. Thank you.”

_“Can it with the ass kissing, we’re doing this for Matt’s own safety.”_

Chris laughed, “Someone can’t take a complim-“

 _“Like I said,”_ Dom interrupted, _“We’re doing this for Matt’s own safety. Could you fix him up a drink or some food while I’m out? Avoid any troubles, and I’ll see what we can do from there.”_

“I’ll ask him if he wants something.”

 _“Good, good, I’ll be going now. Try not to piss him off.”_ He hung up the phone.

Chris put the phone down too, now that he had to ‘babysit’ Matt for the moment. He heard soft snores from the couch. Almost unbelievable that _that_ was the same person (or thing) who had Chris held up in the air, with ease, like he was weightless. And now Matt slept peacefully as if nothing ever happened. 

Bizarre. 

Chris prepared some instant coffee in a mug and put it on the coffee table in front of Matt - in his best effort to be silent; the scent of it woke him up instead. He didn’t know if he was disturbed or amazed as he watched Matt’s wings fold up behind him again. He cleared his throat, “Just be mindful, it’s hot. Hope it keeps you awake.”

“Thank you,” Matt mumbled. He reached for it and grasped the mug in one hand, apparently unbothered by the scathing heat. The drink disappeared in an instant as soon as he put the cup to his lips. “It wasn’t too hot. Tasted nice.”

 _What the fuck?_ Chris thought. _That’s not a human_. What scared him even more was the fact that there were no signs at all of burns on Matt’s hand. “Do you want anything else?”

Matt nodded, “There should be a packet of biscuits in one of the cabinets. There’s a stool in front of it.”

_...He’s too short to reach the cabinets._

“Sure, sure, I’ll get it for you.” Chris pictured Matt going feral when he couldn’t reach the cabinet, and he almost lost it. And there it was, the stool. 

“Much appreciated.” Matt fumbled with the packaging in a childish manner, tugging and frustratedly tearing at the flaps that were supposed to make it easier to open. Chris observed his struggling for a moment until he decided to snatch it out of Matt’s hands, and instead of gratitude, he got hissed at and scratched. 

“Hey, calm down,” Chris opened it with ease and handed it back to Matt - something that didn’t at all appease him. “I’m not stealing your food.”

“Sorry.”

The doorbell sounded - to Chris’ relief, Matt simply sat there and began to nibble on a biscuit. “I’ll get it. Just relax, okay?” Chris soothed, giving Matt’s hair a friendly ruffle. 

Dom almost felt guilty when he saw Matt resting on the couch, clutching a singular, half-eaten biscuit like it was his last meal. The plastic bag Dom held had a set of rope in it, and by that point, he was bringing a fire brigade to a swimming pool. “Morning,” Dom said. He resisted saying “aww” when Matt yawned, and then fully refused to say anything when he stretched one of his wings. 

“‘ello, Dom.” Matt picked up the opened packet and offered it to him. “Want one?”

Something about his clawed hand, wrapped around a ravaged packet of innocent-looking biscuits threw Dom off more than he wanted to admit to himself - That was still Matt he was looking at.

“No, thanks.”

Matt’s snickering sounded anything but human. “More for me, then!” 

—

_And either way you turn  
I'll be there  
Open up your skull  
I'll be there  
Climbing up the walls_

—

The outside world was a refreshing sight for Chris and (a still concerned) Dom. Grey painted the sky and made the streets a little more dead, as if it wasn’t quiet enough already. The loudest thing in town right now was the rustling of the bag Dom held. All it took to come outside was a ‘negotiation’ in front of the timid Matt, like watching parents argue; except Matt would never be able to picture the two as his fathers. Never in a million years. They left him alone in his living space for a while to look at things that weren’t objects covered in blood (or maybe just Matt himself).

“Fuck, it’s cold,” Dom said, hugging the plastic bag as a gust of bitterly cold wind rolled over him. He glanced over at Chris’ puffy windbreaker and was envious of how warm it looked. 

“You went out about an hour ago,” Chris remarked, “Didn’t you feel how cold it was?” 

“Yeah, but it wasn’t this bad!” 

“Drama queen.” Chris laughed to himself when more wind hit them, hearing Dom’s despair.

A crow flew over their heads.

Or a bat.

Whatever the fuck it was, it was gliding about in the sky, appearing blackish in colour with its wings spread proudly. The thing was too high up to make out its features. 

Chris wanted to try and distract his grumpy sidekick with it. He stopped and pointed up at it, “What’s that?” 

Dom watched as it circled around the park they stood in front of. “Crow, probably.”

Then it dived straight for them, and when Dom could catch a good glimpse of it, he almost screamed. Pale skin, dark hair and clothes, and a pair of wings that spanned _metres_. And it was coming right at them like a bullet train. 

“Should I catch him-“

He swooped their heads as they ducked, landing on the sidewalk with a stumble, cool as a cucumber and somewhat confused at the expressions on Dom and Chris’ faces. 

“Well, hello,” Matt sniggered. “Wasn’t that cool?”

Cool probably wasn’t the best word. Dom hissed, “You shouldn’t be out here like this!” He spotted a church on the other side of the park, the top of the cross peeking from behind the tall evergreen trees. “Someone could see you and report you or something, we don’t want you to get hurt...”

Matt pouted. “Sorry. I needed some fresh air.”

Chris remembered how the balcony of Matt’s apartment overlooked the greenery, and he went pale. “You didn’t... You didn’t jump off the balcony or something, did you?”

Silence. Matt suddenly burst into one of his fits of ugly cackling. “Are you kidding? Of course I did.” He smiled obliviously, “Learned to use the wings in that moment!”

“That’s... Incredible.” Chris almost fainted. “Bet they’re gr-“

He stopped when he saw someone. A short haired, stick insect-level thin person metres behind Matt, who looked like they had just seen a ghost. Pale in the face, they pointed a shaky finger at him and yelled, “Demon! You unholy work of _Satan_ , you _monster!”_

Matt turned around. _“Never speak of him in such a manner, you parasite!”_ he roared, baring his fangs. _“I’ll have you torn to shreds before you could speak another word…”_

“...” The person ran off in the opposite direction, as fast as they could - in the direction of the church behind the trees. That’s when Matt saw the gleaming cross and snarled quietly. 

“ _Don’t_ follow them,” Dom piped up. “Find, um... a different one to eat.” He had a terrible gut feeling.

 _"You're not going to stop me.”_ Matt peered over his shoulder at Dom, then at Chris - spreading his wings, he flapped them to build momentum and flew for the stranger, disappearing. 

Both were quiet, until Chris said, “Reckon the rope would’ve come in handy by now.”

—

_Don’t go in there  
You’ll become one  
Freaky creatures, monster party  
Eyes of yellow, scales and feathers, tails and tethers  
Turn the lights off_

—

Matt descended to the ground, hissing like a vampire in sunlight at the holy presence around him. The person from before ran straight through the doors of the church, screaming. He hesitated for a moment, then darted right in behind them.

The inside looked a lot bigger than the outside, and Matt was not at all enjoying all of the imagery surrounding him. His bright eyes illuminated everything he wouldn’t want to look at. Stained glass portraits, statues, and more crosses than he would’ve liked to see had him enraged. Pews were all empty. Matt shook his head and realised that the person had disappeared. 

_“Playing hard to get?”_ Matt snarled, his rough voice climbing up the walls. _“You’re safe with me.”_

He silently hovered along, quiet sobs and the smell of flesh leading him down the aisle. 

“Please, oh God, please...” 

Matt licked his lips. 

“I’m going to die-“ Another pained sob.

Matt cooed, _“Come out, come out, wherever you are…”_ The sobs got louder. _“I promise I don’t bite~”_

He reached the end of the aisle, still like a statue in mid air. Seconds felt like minutes as they passed. Sobbing stopped - Matt could faintly make out a trembled breathing somewhere behind him. 

“Please don’t hurt me...”

Matt flashed an ear-to-ear smile and rasped, _“What’s wrong? Are you scared of me?”_

Deeper breaths.

His head twisted around in an inhuman manner, slowly, until the light of his stare caught the trembling, curled up stranger beneath a pew in the front row. Their head was in their hands.

Matt inched closer. 

He twisted the rest of his body around, wings spread and shrouding the human. “What do you want from me?” they squeaked, holding themself even tighter. Suddenly, they felt a harsh, powerful grip in their hair.

Matt pulled them towards his face.

_“Boo.”_

Screaming ensued, mixing with wet tears, thuds and splats, the echo bouncing off of the walls. He gorged on the body’s abdomen viciously, blood and flesh splattering all over the front of the pew.

_Slam!_

“Is there anyone here?”

Matt sat up when he heard the thin rustling of a plastic bag, seeing two silhouettes standing at the entrance. He picked up the corpse and scurried off to another room.

A door opened and closed; it was dead silent again. The smell of blood hit Dom like a ton of bricks.

“Don’t tell me... Please don’t fucking tell me he did.”

Chris ventured on in and inspected the pews. “You sure this place doesn’t just- well, smell like this?”

He frowned in disgust. Before him was an image that would permanently be in the back of his mind - everything apparently spewed out so much that it reached the seats behind. It didn’t even look real. “...I’ve got some bad news.”

—

_Breathing slowly, mechanical heartbeat  
Losing contact with the living  
Almighty TV plugged, hybrid empty brain  
Don't see anything real in the game_  
_The tension is building constantly  
No reason just a reflex I have, driven by clockwork  
I try to keep an eye open  
And I realize I haven't closed my eyes in a long time_

—

A door.

A lone door, only feet away from the blood.

Chris turned the knob and opened it - the quiet, slick squelches and drips coming from inside were discouraging at best - he decided to feel around for a light switch. He already knew he was not about to see anything pretty. His hand brushed over one and flicked it on, holding his breath in fear. Stood in the room was a bench at one wall, a bookshelf and a set of drawers on the opposite side - and in the corner was Matt, sat hunched over in front of a corpse.

“...Matt?”

Matt turned his head around. Between his teeth were thick intestines, bright pink and glossy, hanging from his mouth like a tongue as the blood dribbled down his chin. He spat it out, _“You’re late to the party.”_

Chris’ eyes were glued to the exposed organ on the floor - watching as it throbbed, his stomach rose to his throat. He couldn’t look away. “What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?”

 _“Sometimes, you creatures are too good-looking not to have a little taste,”_ Matt said, his voice the scratchiest, most dry throated rasp Chris had ever heard. _“Maybe I had a bit more than just a taste…”_ He twisted the rest of himself around and picked up the intestines, giving them a firm squeeze.

“Put that down.”

Matt grimaced, _“What’s the matter? You’ve got one inside you as well, and I bet it tastes just as good as this one. Watch this.”_ He reached behind and began to pull at something, _snapping_ and _ripping_ , until he finally got the thing in his grip free.

The ‘thing’ was a fully exposed, bloody human heart. Chris could’ve swore he saw it swell in Matt’s hand. 

_“Isn’t it gorgeous?”_

“N-No...” Chris shuddered, “Stop fucking touching it.”

Matt tugged at the vessels like it was putty, not breaking eye contact. His wide-eyed stare held Chris in place. _“You’re begging to be dissected.”_

Dom suddenly barged in - the rope over one shoulder, a tiny glass bottle full of liquid in a hand, aimed right at Matt’s dishevelled face. He pried out the cork lid and snapped, “Matt, you fuckin’ gargoyle, I’m gonna-“ 

The stare caught his words. “…Stop looking at me like that.”

_“What’s the matter, Dominic?”_

“Shut up.”

 _“I said…”_ Matt’s smile widened. _“What’s the matter?”_

Dom heaved the bottle at his head, shattering on impact and spilling its contents all over. Matt was writhing in his skin, letting out shrill screams and howls of pain. 

“And _I_ said shut up.”

 _“Oh, you bastard,”_ The veins in his neck faded to black. _“You two are are a bit late to do anything... I can assure you that it wouldn’t be so bright to rid of my presence!”_ Matt stumbled to his feet and stood up. His cold, ghastly skin was clinging to his bones, clothes looking more than oversized, the bags beneath his eyes darker and more dramatic than ever - _dead._

“It’s all we can do,” Dom said. “I’m not about to let you eat _us,_ either.” He scowled as Matt chuckled to himself.

_“He’ll d-“_

Matt was cut off when Chris grabbed him by the legs, hauled him onto the bench and said, “Tie him down.”

Dom didn’t dawdle. Around and around, the rope went, until Matt’s arms, torso and thighs were bound to the bench. Matt tried his best to toss and turn. He growled, _“He will die, let me go!”_

The two ignored his chatter and searched the bookshelves for something, anything, whatever they could get their hands on. 

_“You dare to rid of me!?”_

“Put a sock in it, Lucifer,” Dom slid out a thin notebook from the shelf and began to flick through it. “We’ll read you a _story_ before you go home.”

Chris was elbow deep in a cabinet, a cross dangling from his neck. “Found robes.”

“What?”

“Y’know, those things priests wear.” He tossed one of them to Dom and smiled, “Suit up."

“Chris, wait,” Dom hadn’t moved. “I-I can’t hurt him.” 

“Look at him. Listen to him.” Chris gestured to Matt, who was now growling and twisting like a rabid animal. The grin he wore - resembling a pissed off chihuahua or something - stayed plastered. “I’m sorry, Dom, but we can’t keep him like this.”

Dom pulled the robe over himself, cringing at the thought of whatever was going to happen to Matt after the procedure. The main thing bothering him was how frail and dead he was beginning to look, as if you could touch him and he would turn to dust. “Fucking hell.”

—

_I cannot stomach these forms and colours anymore  
But I'm here to continue, after all I have been through  
I try to keep my eyes open, I am realising  
This life and death more precious than anything_

_I won't bring no material in the after life  
Take no possessions, I would rather travel light  
I'm of this kind that kills all day  
But I don't know yet how to die_

—

“What did that book say?”

“It was some procedure, in steps or something.” Dom opened the notebook again. The handwriting was almost unreadable. "Number one says _God, the merciful and powerful one, one of your servants has been bound by the nature of sin, excuse the behaviour, and lend me the power of enlightenment_.” he muttered. 

They looked up as Matt started getting restless again. He howled, _“All of you are sinners!”_

“Wait, there’s a diagram,” Chris piped up, “It’s a cross on someone’s chest.” 

“I don’t know, draw the sign over his chest, but... don’t touch him.”

Dom held his breath and watched. Matt wasn’t having any of it, failing at trying to bite Chris’ shaky hands. 

“Next?”

 _“Depart, impious one, and let this body be God's temple as he intended.”_ Dom said. 

Matt’s eyes were wide in fear, still black. “Wait, no, _listen to me!_ ” he sobbed, now sounding normal - just miserable. _Pained_. “Don’t hurt me, please…” 

“What’s the next step?”

“It just says to repeat those until you ‘feel the demon’s presence is no longer with you’.”

“Don’t fucking hurt me,” Matt wailed, his bottom lip trembling. “ _Promise me_.”

Hard to ignore that.

“…Do it again.”

“ _God, the merciful and powerful one, one of your servants has been bound by the nature of sin, excuse the behaviour, and lend me the power of enlightenment_.”

 _“You son of a bitch…”_ Matt’s eyes rolled all the way back, uttering a noise that sounded like he was just punched in the stomach. The cross was drawn over him again, and it was the stillest he’d been in hours - it wouldn’t take much more.

" _Depart, impious one, and let this body be God's temple as he intended_.”

Eyes became white again. 

“I’m sorry,” The air rushed out of his lungs. He made one last, defeated sob, “I’m so sorry.”

“No, no, no,” Dom practically launched the notebook at the wall and darted to Matt. He didn’t know if he was in disbelief, shock, or both, but it tore him to shreds to see him in such a position. He croaked, “Why are you sorry?” 

“It’s my fault that any of this happened,” Matt said. Dom pried one of his arms from the rope - Matt’s arm was so thin, he hesitated to move him too much. “And you know it.” He reached up to Dom’s face and barely managed to brush against it. But his hand was so _cold_.

“Don’t say that. Please.”

Matt’s hand fell from Dom’s face. He smiled, “I... I guess this was a lot sooner than you would’ve liked, huh?”

Dom frowned, tears in his eyes, “What do you mean?”

Matt didn’t live to tell him.

**Author's Note:**

> that was 100% an unapologetic Queens of the Stone Age reference in the title :)


End file.
